


In Search Of Daylight

by brutumfulmen



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Communication, Emotional Sex, Experienced Crowley (Good Omens), First Time, Insecurity, Love Confessions, M/M, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2021-02-26 22:26:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21636406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brutumfulmen/pseuds/brutumfulmen
Summary: During all these millennia together, every moment he spent waiting for Aziraphale, never once did he stop to consider the angel might have been waiting for him, too.Crowley does not know the best words to reassure Aziraphale, but he is going to try his damnedest anyways.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 48
Kudos: 416





	In Search Of Daylight

Crowley should have known he’d mess this up, too bad he never predicted just how.

They stood together in the dark of his bedroom that fateful evening after the end of the world and the beginning of a new one, and all he cared for was in his arms. Never had he thought they would be here, happy to just be alive and with one another.

“Angel, what is it?” The fingers clutching at his arms had stopped their idle rubbing, and Crowley, captive by the touch, longed for it to continue.

Aziraphale leaned back against the cold bedroom wall, sheltered by Crowley towering over him, surrounding him with long limbs. “Oh, you just, never responded.”

Crowley nosed into a spot just behind Aziraphale’s left earlobe, kept his facilities long enough to reply without any true chagrin.

“Sorry, bit occupied, what with all the,” he sunk his lips to the delicate skin under Aziraphale’s jaw and delighted in the full body shudder he received. “Yes that. What were you saying?”

“Ah, well I merely said I’m so happy I waited for you,” Aziraphale’s hands worried the fabric of Crowley’s shirt as they rest in the bend of Crowley’s elbows. In his effort to soothe, he drew circles along the angel’s plush hips, his smile felt even through the kiss he bestowed.

“So sorry to keep you waiting,” Crowley teased, and Aziraphale’s responding breath of laughter sent his heart pounding.

“I - I know I’ve always said you go too fast—” Crowley’s hands stuttered on their way down Aziraphale’s chest.

“No! I mean, we never get another first time, you know.” How endearing Aziraphale’s fluttering hands were as they smoothed up and down Crowley’s arms. “I would like us to, ah, savour it?”

Crowley hummed idly, the tension easing out of him as he let his fingers pluck along the cream-coloured waistcoat that concealed Aziraphale from him. Soon nothing would be in the way of his path to the perfect skin he knew lay underneath.

“Always do, angel. Let me show you just how.”

Never before has Aziraphale been in his arms like this, but he recognised when the angel locked up as if a customer had walked into the bookshop unexpectedly with horrific book-buying intentions.

“Pardon?”

Crowley hissed, impatient with how difficult it was to loosen the ridiculous fabric of Aziraphale’s shirt before he remembered to reply. “Said I always savour this sort of thing. Now, how about you help me with this blasted shirt of yours.”

He knew things had gone wrong the moment his fingers pulled the hem of Aziraphale’s shirt from his trousers and he touched the exposed sliver of pale skin, only for the angel to bodily recoil. Aziraphale looked like he’d been punched as grey tinged his flushed face.

“Aziraphale? What is it?”

“What do you mean, you always…” Aziraphale’s eyes darted between his, and he suddenly wished he never took his sunglasses off, uncomfortable with the doubt now marring the angel’s face and directed at him.

Crowley frowned, confused. “Thought it was obvious. Part of the fun is taking things sl—”

“My dear wait please, you don’t need to explain yourself to me, really,” Aziraphale interrupted weakly, his lips pressed tight together. Through the darkness Crowley saw Aziraphale looked as though he were about to cry, and the pieces clicked together with a painful snap.

Oh _fuck_.

For a demon who struggled to come up with the right words most situations, this was Hell. The real thing had nothing on standing before Aziraphale’s wounded eyes, because Crowley could not find something to say as the seconds ticked by like hours in agonising silence.

Crowley might not have to, but he would explain himself, if he only knew _how_. Explain to Aziraphale just why he spent so much time exploring not just the earth but its curious, God-image creatures, whose forms have introduced him to delights Hell never would. Everything that wasn’t pain he took for himself, always has, never sure when would be the last time he experienced it. How could a demon not?

Aziraphale knew all about enjoying the world, what with his books and fine dining and Crowley had assumed— wait no he hadn’t even done that, he just never thought about what the angel might be getting up to.

_I’m so happy I waited for you._

Or in this case, not getting up to. Fuck, fucking fuck.

Whatever showed on his face must have been terrible, for Aziraphale’s expression fell as he stepped back further against the cold wall, as if trying to escape the encirclement of Crowley’s arms, what has become a cage.

“I see, that’s all well and good. It’s fine, let’s, let’s - now, where were we?” Aziraphale touched his fingers to his lips, and Crowley watched, numb at the possibility of the angel smearing the taste of him away. Instead, his hands fluttered to his chest, an ever-faithful barrier against the world, against Crowley.

Clearly it’s anything but _fine_. “Aziraphale stop, listen.”

“No, I mean it, I am being silly! It’s just I - I always imagined things… a tad more mutual,” Aziraphale’s voice cracked ever so slightly, along with Crowley’s heart at the sound of it.

“It is, angel. We can still have that,” Crowley said desperately as he stepped closer on wooden legs, with a useless heart in his throat.

This is not how he expected their first time together to go.

Forget about sex, Crowley cannot even stomach the thought of it right now. Aziraphale had finally, _finally_ been in his arms ready to be loved, and now the moment he’s longed for all this time is burning up before his eyes faster than a bookshop’s ancient timber. He brought his hands to Aziraphale’s shoulders and rubbed what he hoped were comforting circles into the tension underneath, trying to focus on the angel and not to play those last words over again in his mind.

_You always imagined this, with me?_

“We can still have this together, we, I’m still,” His long tongue stumbled to a halt and fuck, why can’t he speak?

Aziraphale looked down, his smile wavered in his voice.

“Of course, my dear.”

Crowley woke to darkness, cursing softly into the chilly air as he fumbled himself into an upright position trying to figure out where he was. As he blinked away sleep, he saw the familiar blank walls of his bedroom now tinged with blue. Even though darkness was present, dawn was already on its way.

He turned over to see Aziraphale laid out under the numerous blankets Crowley snapped into existence earlier, before all of this. The steady rise and fall of his chest went on undisturbed as Crowley watched, human in a way that fit Aziraphale better than wings or white robes ever have.

Aziraphale and he fell asleep sometime during the events of last night, his arms wound around the angel as he shook, mute in Crowley’s embrace. Crowley had not expected anything to happen last night, not really. All he ever wanted was Aziraphale to be happy with him and Crowley could not manage to make that happen, even after everything.

Still, he reached across the bed to brush a curl from that ever-worried face. When he pulled away, Aziraphale’s eyes were open.

“I’m sorry,” said Crowley, unsure what else to say after a beat of them staring at one another.

Aziraphale’s eyes widened and he lurched forward, hands clutching at the fabric of Crowley’s rumpled shirt.

“My dear I was not trying to imply,” Aziraphale swallowed, fear etched into every line on his soft face and Crowley _ached_ at the sight. “It’s not about that, not really, I swear it’s not.”

He looked like he wanted to say more, and that the cost of doing so would be far too high right now. There was a silence needing to be filled, and Crowley knew the angel was not strong enough to do so. It was a role he’s lived for the long millennia stretched between them, and he’ll do it however many times more Aziraphale needed from him.

“Want you happy, Aziraphale,” he whispered, letting an arm sling over Aziraphale’s back to run a long finger down his spine. When the angel did not tense up, Crowley began to rub circles and sighed in relief as Aziraphale shifted closer.

“I am happy, oh you have no idea how happy I am, I promise. And I still want this, with you.” Crowley’s heart nearly stopped when he felt a hand rest over where it beat inside his hollow chest.

“Only if you’re sure,” he said, let his own hand reach up to unbutton Aziraphale’s collar and he felt the same happen to his.

“I am.”

Aziraphale might be sure about wanting this, but he wasn't sure about a lot of other things, and it came out just as Crowley knew it would.

“Is it me?”

Crowley paused his thumbs from stroking over the rolling weight that hung off Aziraphale’s sides, his mouth from writing random patterns into the full curve of Aziraphale’s belly. He looked up and saw a sheen of trepidation on Aziraphale’s flushed face, his hands clenched into the bed sheets, knuckles white.

“Hm?”

“Is this - are you,” Aziraphale cut off, and his eyes darted about the dark room.

Crowley pressed one last kiss to the softness of Aziraphale’s right hip before he pulled away carefully so as not to startle him. But Aziraphale reached for him all the same and it sent something flapping wildly in his chest. There was a peek of light coming from over a hill and Crowley was taking off after it.

He had a pretty good guess by now just what Aziraphale was trying to say, so he slithered up the bed to lay parallel with Aziraphale once more. And as they met for a kiss, he felt the tension ease out, ever so slowly, as all things with Aziraphale happen to do. A hand even came up to rest on the delicate skin of Crowley’s ribs as he loved Aziraphale through whatever worry plagued him.

“Of course it’s you,” Crowley said between kisses he embedded the truth within. “No other.”

Aziraphale simply nestled closer to Crowley and nodded.

Staying eye level with Aziraphale as they caressed, discovered one another was turning out much better than the oftentimes one-sided attentions Crowley might have lavished on a lover and received in turn. Instead of the familiar excitement that is _quid pro quo,_ there was a continuous conversation to be found in their slow explorations.

A tad overwhelmed by it all still, Aziraphale merely ran his hands up and down the planes of Crowley’s flat chest, shy despite his open curiosity. Crowley responded with the patient slide of his fingers along every soft line that formed the indescribability before him. He pressed kiss after kiss to Aziraphale’s lips, his neck, the curvature of his collarbones to sunset it all along the pale expanse of his plush chest just over that fluttering heart.

“Crowley, yes,” Aziraphale panted against Crowley’s fang-sharp mouth when his hand crept up the thick weight of an inner thigh, winding along each little pale stretch mark like he was a garden vine. One kiss on his revisit of Aziraphale’s lips, then the second further down, until he was mouthing at his skin, unable to stop himself every time an inch of it was within reach.

“Oh, oh please,” Aziraphale gasped into Crowley’s neck when the long-neglected lubricant bottle’s contents were poured with abandon into the juncture of his hips, smeared over his arousal and dripped further down between his closed thighs.

“Spread yourself for me,” Crowley hissed, Aziraphale’s panting breaths hot and damp against his rapid pulse, and his forked tongue flicked out to taste the air laden with arousal. Crowley nudged him along with a gentle press of his fingers into the divot of a shaking thigh, tongue nearly bitten clean through as he looked down the curves and rolls of Aziraphale’s plump body to watch him part his legs.

At the tender slip of Crowley’s finger inside Aziraphale cried out, the strangled, confused sound swallowed by a hand he yanked from its grip on Crowley’s arm to slap over his mouth. Ever so slowly, Crowley pushed his finger further in, letting slick and time ease the way until he was knuckle deep. _Fuck_ , he was tight, and the thought sent Crowley panting. His cock throbbed heavy and hard against the softness of Aziraphale’s hip and he forced himself not to rut like a wild animal even as the angel’s own cock leaked sticky onto his belly with each crook of the finger inside him.

 _Stay focused_ , he snapped at himself. “Aziraphale, good so far?”

“Dear, my, my dear it feels, oh, it’s…” Crowley withdrew his finger until just the tip remained nestled within, then slid another inside along with it and the _noise_ Aziraphale made, high pitched and desperate, said more than all the words spoken by people long dead in countries long gone.

On it went, further into the night, and the air filled with hitched pleas wrought by the ever-gentle easing of Aziraphale’s body open from the careful ministrations Crowley worked into him. With three fingers he had Aziraphale arching off the bed, with four he had him gasping and writhing against the slippery sheets.

“Crowley please, please.” Aziraphale, nearly wrecked, eventually said as long fingers rubbed and prodded inside him with precision. His blue eyes were unfocused, lost in pleasure he’s never known but by Crowley’s own hand.

Crowley panted in unison with Aziraphale as his fingers slowly slipped out, swallowing down the pained cry he released at being empty once more. Not for long, Crowley promised with a kiss as he crawled atop Aziraphale and made himself a place between Aziraphale’s legs. It was impossible to ignore the tremors of both arousal and apprehension that rippled through the angel’s form, how wide his pupils were blown, how flushed his skin became.

_I’m so happy I waited for you._

Yes, yes, he will do anything he can to deserve what Aziraphale was giving him. He will make Aziraphale glad to have waited for him, he will.

His cock pulsed when he took it in hand, dripping clear spatter into the sheets, against Aziraphale’s thighs, and he slid the head along the over-slickness pooled right where he wanted to be. Where Aziraphale begged him to sink himself into.

“Please, I - I—”

“Fuck, angel. _Never_ anything like you,” Crowley hissed into the soft down of Aziraphale’s hair as he pressed into the angel’s body, unable to stop his hips from twitching, each time pulling a choked off cry from Aziraphale.

It was Babel all over again and as the tower collapsed, he remembered how they turned to one another only to be speaking different, frantic languages. He was staring at Aziraphale now, just as he did back then, hoping beyond all reason that Aziraphale would meet him halfway and understand the parts of Crowley’s heart he did not know how to translate into spoken language, fractured and dispersed as it was.

“Dear,” Aziraphale, thousands of years later, breathed out what Crowley would know in any language by how it was said into the open air like it was his name, and perhaps in some ancient language long forgotten it was. _Dear, dear, dear_ played on loop in his head while Aziraphale’s was thrown back in the long-drawn pleasure funnelled into his body with each thrust even as it bordered on too much.

He felt fingers wrap around the wrist of his hand that was supporting his weight, then a sharp tug. Aziraphale’s eyes were wide, panicked and staring at him through the darkness, his rubbed red lips parted, trying to form words but nothing came out except struggling breaths.

“Tell me, Aziraphale,” he asked, begged. He could see it on the tip of Aziraphale’s eternally bitten-back tongue, as though it had always been there. “Anything. I’ll listen, swear it.”

“I - I’ve never been enough for them, for Heaven or anyone and I, and then there you were and I was just waiting to be _sure_ ,” Aziraphale babbled in a thick, tear-logged rush he buried against Crowley’s chest. Soft, shaking hands dug deep into his snake-scaled back as if Aziraphale knew nothing else to do except hold on and hope Crowley would not pull away, would not stop moving.

“I want to be all you want but you’re, you’re so lovely and so much of it and I’m—”

“Angel you’re everything,” Crowley immediately replied, scrambling to keep himself moving and comfort Aziraphale at the same time. The angel only shook his head against Crowley’s chest, refusing to let himself be seen.

“I’ve waited for you my whole life. I’ve loved you since Eden, loved you always Crowley, Crowley.”

Crowley struggled with words. Terrible, complex words. He preferred action over anything else, the kind where he could come to the rescue, where he could be what caused Aziraphale to be safe. To be happy. Yet when he opened his mouth, it was the clearest he has ever spoken. No hesitation or missteps to be found as he held Aziraphale’s head in his hands just as reverently as Aziraphale cradled him between his shaking thighs.

He looked down into Aziraphale’s tearful, pleasure-tinged eyes and said—

“I love you,” he did not pause to let the words sink in and continued thrusting, speaking, even as Aziraphale’s pupils blew wide until each sky-coloured iris was but a thin ring and his mouth’s closed line trembled with the attempt to keep control. To not let every vulnerable, shameful part of himself be rend open and exposed in the light Crowley sought to cast upon them both.

“I’ve loved you since Babylon, when you walked with me in the hanging gardens. You complained most of the time about it being too hot and wanting to go to the library instead. But there you were, next to me. You had plucked a fruit - no, _stop_ , I don’t remember what kind - from some tree we passed. Before you even brought it to your mouth you offered it to me.” He wet his lips as Aziraphale’s control slipped and he moaned, shivered underneath him. With immense demonic effort he willed himself to keep moving, refused to shudder apart before he said everything he needed.

“I’d always told you that food was wasted on me but you still, you still thought about me. From the time we met, you’ve always thought of me first. Even when I didn’t see it.”

Aziraphale’s eyes squeezed shut as tears flowed freely down his face, but Crowley did not stop. He could not stop as the morning’s light slipped along the bed, crept ever so much closer towards the pillow Aziraphale rest upon.

_Let me tell you. Let me tell you just what I see when you are caught in light, what I see that you refuse to._

“It changed something in me, angel. I’d never built an altar before, but I’ve worshipped you ever since. You’re all there is. Whether with a hand full of fruit or pushing me away, there’s nothing I could want, adore, love more than you.” A pained whine was torn from Aziraphale’s throat, only half induced by the drag of Crowley’s flat abdomen over his sensitive cock trapped between them as it dripped profusely with each pull and push within.

Aziraphale was close, trembling at the edge but afraid to tip over, to let himself be seen by Crowley in the light of day. Crowley pulled a hand from Aziraphale’s face so he could entwine it with a shaking one and pressed them both down gently into the bed sheets.

“I loved you under a canopy of trees in a garden that hasn’t existed for ages. I’ve loved you through arrangements and plagues and wars and the end of a world that didn’t even end. I’d love you through it all over again if I have to.”

He remembered how it felt to sink his teeth into a fruit offered from Aziraphale’s own hand, to watch the angel bite right where Crowley’s mouth had once been, as if searching for remnants of him in the wet pulp. How those lips glistened so bright with sticky sweet that he fantasised about sucking them clean for millennia afterwards.

His oldest, greatest fantasy. Touched himself and countless others to it and even that has not held up to the reality of Aziraphale.

Nothing ever has.

“I’ll love you through every force in the universe that might try to keep me from you, including yourself. I always will.”

And that was the end of it, send message.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale sobbed out a broken sound that reverbed through the empty bedroom, through Crowley’s heart, and he came spurting hot between them, body wracked with pleasure and so much more. His hand clenched tight in that firm, grounding hold as hot tears spilled over his cheeks for Crowley to chase with a kiss and then another and then another.

“There’s only you, Aziraphale,” Crowley choked out over those shuddering cries as he stared, awestruck, down at the molten tremble of Aziraphale in his arms, caught within the first rays of a new morning and burnished golden.

He had gone in search of daylight, and found the entire sun instead.

Aziraphale’s whines and gasps of pleasure lingered on even as his tears slowed in their drip down his face. Crowley continued to rock into him ever so gently, loved Aziraphale as the tremors ebbed away, and with a kiss to his forehead he promised to love him afterwards. He untangled the other hand from against the angel’s face to run his fingers down a tear-soaked cheek, marvelling at how Aziraphale closed his eyes and leaned into the touch.

“You, you haven’t…?”

Crowley, almost certain he misheard at first, shook his head, unable to speak with his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. Yes, the ache between his legs was painful enough to melt his spine, sure, but—

“Dear you must, please.” Crowley muffled an undemonic sound at the breathless desperation in that voice, then gave up as Aziraphale raised himself a mere fraction of a centimetre. He might as well have moved a mountain with how Crowley moaned, hips jutting forward of their own accord.

“Aziraphale, can I? Inside?”

Aziraphale nodded hurriedly, tears clung to his eyelashes, but they were the last of them. Knowing this, Crowley rest his face into the divot of the angel’s damp neck and began to move once more.

It took a bit longer than it would have had he not stopped in the wake of Aziraphale’s tumultuous release, but as he’s approached all things during their time together, there was no hurry. Not even here, as Aziraphale embraced him sweetly and so wonderfully wet, a welcoming clutch for Crowley to piston into as he stuttered his way towards the edge. His fingers slipped along Aziraphale’s sweat-soaked skin as he sought purchase and when the angel tentatively shifted his hips to meet Crowley’s driving thrust it was all over. A low, drawn out groan and he sunk himself deep enough until Aziraphale was all he felt as his orgasm crested, then drained from him in powerful, aching pulses that left him gasping the angel’s name.

_Let me tell you. Let me tell you how I come apart for no one like I do for you._

Time moved slow or stopped completely as they lay there, with Crowley draped over Aziraphale, face still buried in his neck and cock still buried in his body. Two scholar-soft hands rest limp atop Crowley’s arms, their blunt nails anchored into his lean, cooling flesh.

“Did you mean it,” Aziraphale whispered, overwhelmed and wracked with the last drips of his pleasure and something profoundly more important. “Did - did you mean any of it.”

Crowley could not move and he did not need to. But, he did need to speak.

“All of it, angel.”

“Oh, it’s morning already,” he heard Aziraphale eventually whisper after the long, comfortable silence. Crowley grunted, cracking open an eye to just in time catch the sunlight’s illumination of Aziraphale's thoughtful expression as he looked towards the bright bedroom windows.

He had no reply for that, except to map how the light played across Aziraphale’s features, lovely as he has always been in his eyes.

“Missed breakfast probably. Still got time for brunch, if you’re feeling so,” Crowley offered gruffly as he pushed himself up on shaking arms, and with every ounce of discipline he possessed he began to ease himself out. Underneath him Aziraphale gasped, a soft breath puffed out against Crowley's chest at the sensation. Shocked, Crowley looked down to see wide blue eyes and a flushed face.

“Angel?”

“Ah, perhaps not, well. Not yet.” A hint of embarrassment of all things crept into his flush, and the shy way his love-bitten lip caught between his teeth was enough to send another throb straight to Crowley’s cock.

“You sure? In that case I can get something to clean us up. Hold you as long as you want, then.” Holding a refreshed, sated Aziraphale for hours definitely sounded appealing, but he would admit that the current state of Aziraphale spent emotionally, physically, coated with release both inside and out, was making a very wicked case for itself.

Aziraphale bit into his lip further before he spoke. “I, I admit to having found it interesting when you were, well.”

The grey matter between Crowley’s ears abruptly short-circuited, and a key synapse meant to connect critical thought to his mouth was lost in the carnage.

“Are you,” he cannot believe he’s saying this, the notion enough to turn his tongue into toffee, his cock to iron.

“Are you saying me _coming inside_ of you turned you on?”

Aziraphale went bright red and Crowley could not help but laugh. Without comment he dipped down to kiss away the resulting exasperated frown, the furrow in Aziraphale’s brow.

“Do try to word it a bit less rudely, would you please,” Aziraphale huffed but he did not deny it, and the mottled red from cheek to chest told Crowley all he needed to hear.

“Rude is what I am. Still a demon, remember?” Crowley let a grin split his face, and light bloomed in his chest at the responding smile on Aziraphale’s, at his soft, breathless laugh. This was good. The huffiness, the laughter. Aziraphale’s pent up doubts and anxieties would not all come out in one night for them to sort through, for Crowley to lay reckless but earnest hands on. They would need these moments, this light after their endless stumbling through the darkness.

Together, always together, though.

Aziraphale’s hesitation returned in the aftermath of their fading laughter, and if his hands were not locked to Crowley’s shoulders they would be fidgeting.

“No, I mean yes but it’s mostly because, well, it’s me. Because of me, that is.” A hand slipped from Crowley’s shoulder to pluck at the drenched sheets, and he avoided eye contact. “Are you upset?”

“Hell no, if you can’t tell.” To drive his point home figuratively and literally, Crowley gave a gentle roll of his hips and watched as Aziraphale shuddered beautifully underneath him, as those legs fell apart once more, open and trusting in far more ways than merely physical.

“To refrain from ‘being rude’, of course it’s ’cause of you. Every time we’re together will always be because of you. Nothing, no one else.” His words, far too much in his opinion, landed true as Aziraphale’s tension bled out and he relaxed once more into the sheets. Crowley, humbled, leaned down to kiss the crown of Aziraphale’s pale, mussed hair. No one has ever trusted him so wholly, and the resulting warmth flickered to life under his skin in a way that did not hurt, in a way that felt more like rising than falling.

“Then,” Aziraphale whispered, a touch of his fingertips along the delicate skin over Crowley’s ribs. “My dear, would you please…” 

Crowley obliged with a bitten back groan at the overly slick, warm clench of Aziraphale around him. With another shift he pressed forward until he was fully inside once more and Aziraphale moaned like it was somehow, miraculously, everything he ever wanted.

“Ah, Crowley,” Aziraphale, his imperfect, remarkable Aziraphale sighed out on a soft breath when he set a deep, languid pace, clearly content with leaving his pleasure in Crowley’s hands. There was no need to push themselves with different positions, expectations. Crowley found in the half span of a particularly deep thrust which pulled a deliciously wanton moan from Aziraphale, that he could live the rest of his existence making love in this gentle way. An eternity of this, simply draped over the supine angel, staring down into those soft, red-rimmed eyes and nowhere else. He had a _very_ strong feeling that is exactly what Aziraphale wanted anyways. This, just this. Call it Aziraphale-centric intuition or just a good old demonic hunch, either could take credit if Crowley got things right when it mattered.

Dipping down to nudge at Aziraphale’s apple-round cheek, he murmured his love into the delicate shell of a nicely sensitive ear while a mussed curl along his damp temple tickled at his nose. Aziraphale sighed in response, his hands playing along the sinew over Crowley’s ribs, to have him under his own two hands, Crowley realised with a fondness. To have Crowley remember who he was there with.

As if he could ever forget with who he has shared all these millennia and when Crowley dove in to kiss Aziraphale he swore he could taste that sweet, Old World fruit from so very long ago.

“Would you tell it to me again, please?” Aziraphale whispered, sky blue from those half-lidded eyes met Crowley’s yellow-sun stare.

“Course angel, of course. What part?” Crowley asked in a soft rush. With a tinge of reverence, he wrapped tamarisk branch arms tighter around the pliant angel as he moved within him, pressed his forehead down to Aziraphale’s.

A gentle hand slipped between them to rest over Crowley’s heart.

“All of it, dear.”

_Tell me about how you fell in love with me in those ancient hanging gardens over a piece of fruit, just as I did for you so many years ago. Tell me how it’s been me who’s had your heart ever since, even though I was too afraid to hope you might ever feel the same._

_Tell me, please. Tell me how you do and here, at long last in your arms, I will believe you._

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading.


End file.
